Meet Tailor Suzuki, a girl named after Taylor Swift (minus the 'y'), and her gang of eccentric roommates: Dordan, the kitchen's worst nightmare; Pablo, who despises pasta (don't ask); and Grenade, whose love for explosives makes bathroom time... int...
As we continued our trek down the street, I suddenly noticed a face that sent a chill racing down my spine-one I recognized all too well. I froze, terror coursing through me. "OH SHIT! BOYS, RUN!!" I shouted in a panic, urging them to flee as adrenaline surged through my body, pushing us into full flight.
"Why!" the boys shouted, their voices echoing with confusion and fear as they sprinted alongside me, each step adding to the urgency of our escape.
"Don't stop running, but turn back and look at who that person is!" I gasped, my lungs burning as I sprinted like a madman. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, forcing me to keep going despite the exhaustion creeping in.
In perfect synchronization, Damnsney, Grenade, and Pasta all spun around, their eyes wide with panic as they darted a glance back at the figure in pursuit.
"Oh no! Isn't he the Italian guy who got fired from the pizzeria last month by us?" Grenade exclaimed, panic edging into his voice.
"Yes!" I yelled, my heart racing even faster than my legs could carry me.
"Woah, woah! Wait! Is that a brick?!" Pablo shouted, his eyes widening in disbelief as he continued to glance back at the furious Italian, who clenched a brick in his hands with determination.
"Oh shit! We shouldn't have run in the direction of that construction site!" Dordan said, a mix of dread and realization spreading across his face.
I turned to look over my shoulder, my feet barely keeping up with the pace of the others, and caught sight of the man chasing us, his face contorted with rage as he hurled Italian curses in our direction.
As if this moment couldn't get any more chaotic, my mind suddenly flashed back to what had happened a month ago.
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A month ago...
It was a typical afternoon when I, Grenade, Pasta, and Damnsney decided to grab a bite at the local pizzeria. We were desperate for nourishment after our beloved Dordan had completely obliterated our kitchen while attempting to make dinner-a venture that resulted in more smoke than actual food. Pablo had been in a fit of frustration, berating Dordan for his culinary catastrophe.
Once we were settled in and our pizzas arrived, Dordan pulled out a massive bottle of ketchup, brandishing it like a chef revealing his secret ingredient. The moment he unscrewed the cap, chaos ensued.
The Italian waiter, who was now on our heels, appeared out of nowhere. His eyes widened in horror as he rushed towards our table, a look of disbelief mixed with disgust written all over his face. He snatched the ketchup bottle away from Damnsney with an alarming intensity that startled all of us.
"How dare you?" he had exclaimed vehemently, the very idea of ketchup mingling with pizza was an affront to his Italian heritage.
Just then, the pizzeria's Italian manager emerged from the kitchen, drawn by the commotion, only to be met with the sight of his waiter holding the ketchup bottle as if it were an abomination.
In an instant, the decision was made. The waiter, embarrassed and dejected, was fired on the spot and unceremoniously shown the door, along with us. We bolted from the scene, racing to escape the fallout of our accidental food faux pas.
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Now, as we turned sharply onto another street, our desperation propelled us forward into what we thought was safety, but our fortune quickly turned grim when we found ourselves face-to-face with a dead end.
Nothing could have prepared us for the crash as we stumbled to a halt before a wall. Just then, gravity dealt a strange hand, and a figure fell from the sky right in front of us.
Blinking in surprise, we realized it was a woman-a very pretty one, no less.
She scrambled to her feet, looking around in a daze. "May I know what place is this?" she inquired, her voice dripping with a strong British accent that caught us off guard.
We exchanged confused glances and explained where we were, but she seemed lost-her gaze distant as she muttered something about "Prince James? James?"
"What's your name, lady?" I asked, intrigued.
"Oh! I am Rebecca! Rebecca Holmes," she replied, her expression turning curious.
"Hmm, nice to meet you, Rebecca. I'm Tailor Suzuki, and these are my friends: Dordan Damnsney, Pablo Pasta, and lastly, Grenade Pesticide," I introduced us, hoping to make a positive impression.
Then, she pointed over my shoulder and asked, "Who's that person standing behind you with a brick?"
I turned slightly to glance at the furious Italian, still seething and determined.
"Oh! He's... um... our friend! Italialeo Pizzawaitehru! He's an Italian!" I quickly concocted a fictitious name, trying to diffuse the situation.
"Signorina! That isn't-!" the Italian interjected, but I shot him a warning glance, clearly signaling him to keep quiet as I whispered an arrangement that would allow him to reclaim his dignity.
"Oh! Yes! Nice to meet you, Signorina! I am Italialeo Pizzawaitehru!" he chimed in, completely falling for our ruse.
"By the way! I got to go! It was lovely meeting you!" Rebecca exclaimed, her face lighting up before she hurried away, clearly eager to escape the chaos.
With a collective sigh of relief, we finally took the Italian back to the pizzeria where he once worked. There, we recounted the story to the manager, and after an awkward moment, we managed to persuade him to forgive the Italian. Dordan begrudgingly apologized for his reckless behavior and even promised to abandon combining ketchup with pizza and pasta forever.
In gratitude, the Italian, whose real name turned out to be Antonio, treated us to the most exquisite gelato imaginable, a small token of appreciation for helping him regain his job.
As we devoured the creamy sweetness, walking back home with grins plastered across our faces, it hit me. "Guys? Shouldn't we find that dude from the opposite building who went grocery shopping? It's been almost 25 minutes!" I realized, the fleeting memories of an extraordinary day flooding back to me.
"Oh yes!" my friends exclaimed in unison, realizing our original errand had completely slipped our minds as we reminisced about the craziest afternoon we could ever have.
